


I see what I must leave

by crookedspoon



Series: Rare Pair 100 [3]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Goodbyes, Homecoming, Homesickness, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Intoxication, M/M, POV Rufus Shinra, POV Sephiroth, Pining, Pre-Canon, Secret Relationship, War, Work In Progress, Wutai War (Compilation of FFVII)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:21:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25401523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedspoon/pseuds/crookedspoon
Summary: A series of 500-word ficlets looking at how Rufus and Sephiroth deal with the beginning of the Wutai War and how it affects their relationship.
Relationships: Sephiroth/Rufus Shinra
Series: Rare Pair 100 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2155425
Comments: 12
Kudos: 26





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Neurotoxia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neurotoxia/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war in Wutai just broke out and there's no time for grand goodbyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fills slashthedrabble prompt #574 - 1. "Urgent" and #3 "a kiss to say goodbye" from [this prompt list](https://crookedspoonfic.tumblr.com/post/180146126460/send-me-a-ship-and-a-number-and-i-will-write-a).
> 
> Sorry I'm not able to write more about them, currently. My head is filled with images, but the words won't come together.

His phone shrills the same instant the emergency news update interrupts every programme.

"Have you heard?"

"They just announced it," Rufus says, scanning the screen. 

"I just got back from our briefing myself. You were right."

"Of course. I know my father." If there's something he wants, he won't back down until he gets it. With force, if necessary.

There's rustling on the other end of the line, light metallic clinking, zippers being pulled. Rufus closes his eyes, swallows.

"You have to go," he says tonelessly. It wasn't a question. They've known for months that this would happen. There'd been no reason for relocating his SOLDIERs to Junon if his father weren't itching to deploy them.

"They're preparing the airships as we speak. We're leaving within the hour."

Not enough time. "Where are you now?"

"On my way. You?"

"On my way. I'll meet you at the carport."

He'd have to hurry. The SOLDIER barracks are on the other side of the campus and the academy itself situated just outside of Junon. It would take about fifteen minutes to ferry them from here to Upper Junon – longer to get them to the airport.

He strides onto the tarmac in his Sunday best, complete with beret and spotless white gloves. Cadets of his year have not been called on to take up arms yet, although most are eager to prove themselves heroes in Wutai. 

Rufus can relate. He wants to join the frontlines, too, if only to be close to Sephiroth. But his father wouldn't allow it. He doesn't trust Rufus not to get himself killed.

"Cadet," someone barks at him. One of SOLDIER's combat instructors. "What are you doing here? Go back to your barracks."

"I'm here to send off our troops," Rufus says and straightens further. Authoritative, just like he's practiced.

The man eyes him askance. "I heard your father's already there."

"All the same. You will take me with you."

He dismisses the man and sweeps his gaze over the assembled SOLDIERs, a sea of blue turtlenecks. All but one.

"You made it," Sephiroth rushes toward him, wearing the purple turtleneck that signifies his higher rank. He stops a foot short of Rufus, abruptly, as if suddenly reminded not to pull Rufus into his arms where everyone can see. His fists clench at his sides. "Sir."

Rufus opens his mouth, but already they're ushered inside the transport vehicle. Packed tightly with the other SOLDIERs, no one sees them clutching each other's fingers behind the shield of their thighs. They ignore the boisterous chatter that washes over them, anxious for one last moment alone.

It comes when they reach the airport. Everyone disembarks, and Rufus hangs back, lets Sephiroth feel the tug of their conjoined hands.

When Sephiroth turns, Rufus channels their unspoken words into one final kiss. There would be no more chances after this.

"You have to come back," he says. "That's an order."

Sephiroth nods against Rufus's neck, just as unwilling to let go. "I will."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Retweet here](https://twitter.com/crookedteaspoon/status/1285194204403118080).


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fills the slashthedrabble prompt #574 - 2 "Long, Long Way From Home"

The air is salty and warm on his lips, without the tang of metal and corrosion to distort it. In Junon, mugginess clings to the houses in the summer, and the city swelters in its own odours of rotten fish and waste and the sweat of military men patrolling the streets. Midgar is no better, a construction of steel plates in the desert, with not even the relief an ocean breeze provides.

There is no metal here, no walls. Only brown, patchy grass that barely clings to life on the bare rock. Everything feels so alien he might as well be on another planet. He's never been this far from Midgar or Junon, the only two homes he's ever known. Dim recollection suggests there might have been another, but that would have been before Rufus came into his life. Before Sephiroth started counting.

Already the pull back east is strong enough to bring him to his knees, but he hides his misery beneath a mask of casual indifference. Homesickness is a spreading disease; he's not the only one afflicted.

They make their road inland from the coast, scouting the terrain as they go. The days are spent pitching tents and erecting bases at strategic points along the way. Even Sephiroth is winded come nightfall, too tired to do much apart from curling up with his cell phone when he's too restless to sleep. He keeps it shut off during the day to conserve battery life: the generators they hook up at the bases are for essential electronics only. There's no service out here anyway, and the paltry amount of photos he has of Rufus are quickly swiped through. Even the biting humour in their text threads are tepid like yesterday's news, unable to quench his yearning. For the first time he regrets that the time they spent together was so fleeting it had to be lived, not captured to be experienced later.

When there's opportunity, he composes letters to Rufus. He revises them endlessly, not wanting to bore him to death with the mundane details of his deployment. It's difficult to talk to him like this, without the medium of sound, or even touch. It's like he has to learn an entirely new way of communication, one without instant feedback that helps clear up misunderstandings before they arise. He's never had this much trouble getting his thoughts across. It always felt like Rufus understood, without Sephiroth having to say anything. And these silences between them, so comfortable before, are a hindrance now. He wants to convey that Rufus is on his mind a lot, without admitting that he's on his mind _all the time,_ amid the chaos ruling there. Rufus would call it sentimental, and it may be, but Sephiroth can't lie about his feelings.

If he did, he would not need to look forward to the fighting. He has no stake in the war, but if nothing else, it distracts him from the ache that festers in his heart.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fills the prompt "Juke Box Hero."

It's manic energy that drives him. That makes him somehow survive the brutal schedule of days crammed to the gills with schoolwork and nights spent on the town, with barely a minute of sleep in between. He finds a different party every night, a different bar willing to serve minors, a different girl to dance with.

(It's always girls he dances with, girls with pretty eyes and long hair – pale hair that gives off whiffs of tea and roses, but still reminds him of sweat and grime and a tickle in his throat where he can't reach. The girls giggle when he noses their hair, inhales the scent of their scalp, lost in the memory of another. He holds them tight, their thin, supple bodies, so soft, so small, and grinds against them on the dancefloor, drinks he shouldn't have access to sloshing in his hand, until they drag him elsewhere or he has to return for morning drills.

It's always girls he goes with, girls with soft, pillowy breasts and softer curves, nothing at all like the hard angles of a boy's body, their bony limbs and their strong, demanding fingers. Girls don't bruise his lips while kissing. Girls don't whoop his ass in training. Girls don't hold him down at night, sweaty and entangled, their lips a secret weapon that never fail to force his surrender.

Girls are sweet. They're forgettable. And they're aplenty. He never has to see the same girl twice.)

His dormmates admire his daring lifestyle – made possible by the stimulant Shinra ships to the frontlines by the crateful. (As the son of Shinra, Rufus knows how to procure some.) Sephiroth used to work out from morning till night on a single dose—but Rufus does not think of Sephiroth. He thinks of nothing, his head stuffed with cotton balls and a throbbing ache that spikes when sunlight hits his eyes. Everything is flickering, shards of colours on a movie reel, blurring and dissolving. His muscles twitch, his heart races even when he's sitting still, and nausea becomes a part of him.

His grades remain excellent, of course. That's the deal. As long as he tops the school ranking, no word of his behaviour will ever reach his father's ears. His company funds the school, after all. And besides, it's a point of pride. Whatever else is going on, Rufus can never be seen to let it affect his performance.

So he sits out his hangovers in class, studies until words no longer hold meaning, and ignores the urge to check his phone every five seconds. Seph doesn't call, doesn't write, and why would he? It's stupid of Rufus to wait for it to happen. Everyone's lives have been disrupted by the war, everyone is restless and jittery with anticipation. Some for an end, others for their own deployment.

Rufus can only stay behind, blotting out each day as it comes. If there's no time to think, there's no time to notice what he's missing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sephiroth had never wanted to make a name for himself. All he wanted was to return to Rufus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 8 - "Headknocker"

Sephiroth never wanted fame. He never wanted war either. 

He wants to return to Rufus, even though he would never leave his post without permission. Rufus would never welcome back a deserter, either. Sephiroth has a duty to Shinra, the empire that Rufus would one day inherit. It was enough to convince him to stay. 

His superior officers said he could go home once the war is over. Yet they were called back to Midgar for strategy meetings when Heidegger was unable to attend them in situ.

They also said the war would be over as quickly as it began. That's what SOLDIER was for, after all. Early on, when the Wutaian warriors met the Shinra forces head-on, they learned that no one stood a chance against SOLDIER. 

Afterwards, the generals expected every skirmish to be as easily won – until they came upon a castle built atop a hill, fortified by catapults and longbowmen who used the terrain to their advantage. Even with his materia, Sephiroth couldn't strike outside their reach. He'd have to abandon his cover to be effective, but although he is fast, he is not impervious to an arrow through the heart.

A siege was suggested, to starve out the enemy, yet that would leave them open to attack from all sides. Moreover, their supply lines would need strengthening in case of ambushes if they were to outlast the food stores inside the castle.

The higher-ups seemed not to care about such crucial details. They wanted quick results. That decision was met with general approval: no one had come here to wait around.

The attack was brutal, the victory hard-won. They lost many a good man that day, and the slaughter within the castle walls turned Sephiroth's stomach. There could have been ways to avoid such bloodshed, but he and his comrades were nothing more than pawns, to be directed and sacrificed as needed.

He had accepted this lot when he joined SOLDIER. But he could not stand by idly when Shinra's infantry grew slimmer and slimmer through mismanagement and bad calls. The more reinforcements were sent for, the sooner Rufus and his classmates would be deployed. If they were to reunite, Sephiroth would prefer it to be under different circumstances.

So Sephiroth made himself indispensible, offered advice on strategy, and led attacks, hoping to cut down on casualties. He earned influence that way and promotions followed.

As he climbed through the ranks, Shinra's PR department took notice of his unusual appearance and, deciding it would be a selling point for the military, thrust him in front of the cameras. His mild-mannered speeches caught on with the public and soon, new recruits flooded the ranks, dreaming of becoming war heroes like him.

Sephiroth never wanted to be a symbol like that. If anything, he wishes he could prepare them for the horrors that await.

He's tired, the privileges his new rank confers his only consolation. His shore leave has been approved. He'll get to see Rufus soon.


	5. Chapter 5

News from the frontlines trickle in like a leak: a drop here or there, never the full story. Rufus can't stand it. He needs more than just third-hand rumours.

It takes a bit of tweaking the academy network, but Rufus manages to tunnel into the military servers eventually. A wave of triumph assaults him, mixed in with scorn. He'll have to inform the admins of their shoddy security some day, but not before he's satisfied his curiosity. 

He scans through document after document, perspiring against he clock, as if a lost connection might be terminal. It might. But he's young and blue-eyed, in more ways than one. He doesn't believe in doors barred to him, in connections unable to reestablish. He's made it this far, after all.

At his age, he doesn't even appreciate the wealth of information he has at his fingertips. Or perhaps he does, in a way, but not enough to care. If they don't contain the name he's looking for, they're meaningless to him, although his brain files away bits and pieces automatically. The name of Sephiroth's division, troop movements, rotation schedules. Those hold his attention, as do lists of casualties. As frustrating as it is to not find what he's looking for, it's a relief to not find it there.

Just as he's beginning to think that SOLDIERs are handled separately, he comes across reports mentioning Sephiroth. His bravery, his strategic thinking, his selfless service. There are letters of recommendation and private memos to higher-ups, soaked through with the full range of meaning of the word awe. Admiration. Reverence. Fear. 

Rufus scoffs and squirms in his seat. He's never once been afraid of Sephiroth (a lie), so he ignores the words in favour of the images attached to them. And stops breathing.

There Sephiroth is, with his hair long and unbound, no longer held back in the high ponytail he's last seen on him. If not for the colour, Rufus might not have recognised him. Gone is whatever residual shyness he had carried over from his childhood. In its place a hardness had been beaten, evident in the way he holds himself, even when he's standing still.

It was a secondary thought. His mind is going into overdrive to notice everything there is to notice so he wouldn't have to see the blood. Sephiroth is dripping with it, as if someone had sprayed him with a firehose. His pale face covered, his hair clumped together, his sword almost black with gore.

And Rufus? Rufus is trembling. Suddenly he can't sit anymore.

He's so hard he can't stand it. He touches himself then and there, staring until his vision blurs – until he could swear he sees the blood roll down Seph's cheek.

He imagines Seph grasping him like this, the blood as slippery as lube on his fingers but much more memorable on his skin.

Rufus gasps, somewhat embarrassed to have been shocked into release, but much more disappointed that his hands don't come away red.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Feels Like the First Time"

Walking down the corridors of Shinra Tower again kicks up memories like clouds of dust. So much has changed, has become sleeker and brighter, more polished than he remembers. And yet the underlying structure is still one he can follow in his sleep.

Fortunate for him, because he's asleep on his feet. During the flight, he kept pacing the hull of the airship, apprehension pulling his muscles taut. Everything he'd done these past two years he'd done with a single goal in mind: to return to Midgar as soon as possible. Now that the goal was attained, he has to deal with the reality of it.

And the reality is this: he hasn't talked to Rufus in weeks, if not months. The last time he did, Rufus sounded distracted, as if he were just sitting out the call.

There is a non-zero chance Rufus has moved on and is no longer has interested in Sephiroth's return. 

He passes his newly designated room twice and when the hydraulic doors finally sweep aside for him, he stops. His duffel bag drops to the floor.

Across from him, backlit by the tall glass windows, Rufus is lounging with a book propped up in front of him. He appears to be engrossed in his reading, not having moved a muscle, but his eyes have flicked to Sephiroth.

Sephiroth's breath goes out of him. He stares at Rufus for the longest time, unable to decide how to approach him.

As usual, Rufus takes the lead.

"Close the door," he says.

Sephiroth transfers his bag to the foot of the bed as the door slides closed behind him.

"How did you know?" he asks finally.

"I have my ways."

Rufus smiles and uncurls from his seat, placing his book face-down on the windowsill. He has grown several inches since Sephiroth last saw him, but so has Sephiroth. He still towers over Rufus. And he still feels awkward doing so. That's a strange realisation. He hasn't had the luxury of feeling awkward in so long.

Combing his long bangs out of his eyes, Rufus steps around the bed. Sephiroth wants to reach for him, pull him into his arms, but the closer Rufus comes, the further Sephiroth shrinks back.

His hands are trembling. He cannot touch Rufus with these hands. They are stained with the blood of countless innocent people he's slain in the name of Shinra.

When Rufus touches him, Sephiroth is shaking just like that time Rufus had first kissed him. This time, however, it's not because his body remembered everything that has been done to it in the lab; this time, it remembers all the violence he has done in Wutai.

He tries to confess, but Rufus shushes him. 

"I know," he says, and kisses Sephiroth gently. "I know about everything."

Whether that's true or not, something shifts inside Sephiroth. The guilt is there like before, too heavy to be absolved by a mere kiss, but Sephiroth will take the comforts as they come.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Seventeen."

The first thing Rufus notices about Sephiroth is – as always – how tall he's become. The photographs he'd dug up during this two-year interval only told him how tall the newspaper correspondents wanted Seph to appear, not how much taller Seph had become in relation to him.

Rufus had experienced a growth spurt not long after Sephiroth's departure. And still he has to crane his neck to look at him. It's the only concession he would make: tip his head up and invite Seph to kiss him – or pull him down if need be. He would not rise up on tiptoe to initiate a kiss.

Despite his height, Sephiroth almost cowers before him, as though he were afraid to be touched. It reminds Rufus painfully of the time he first made his interest known. He'd been too young and too inexperienced to understand the complexity of what he saw as Sephiroth's shyness, but which may well have been trauma induced by his upbringing in the lab. Desire drives him now as much as it did then, but he's not above using a gentler approach. 

Thankfully, the time it takes for Sephiroth to get over whatever hangup he has is negligible. Before long, Rufus finds himself pressed into the sheets and gasping for air, "missed you" an unspoken chorus between both of them. Sephiroth ruts against him as if wanting to make up for all the nights they spent apart, and Rufus feels fully like a teenager again, giddy and alive, like the war can't touch them: like all that matters is each other.

The next morning, Rufus can barely stand. Not that he has to. Seph tugs him back to bed for a round so slow he thinks Seph might fall asleep halfway through it. Afterwards, Seph carries him to the shower and Rufus would have been indignant if his concentration hadn't been wrapped up in keeping his legs from buckling. It takes another hour before Rufus finally manages to slip out.

He uses the book he'd forgotten in Seph's room as a pretext to see him again that night. And the next. And the next. They spend every spare moment they can find kissing, touching, and fucking each other. Their time together is short and precious and they intend to fill it to the brim. Already Rufus feels Sephiroth's absence like a physical ache, and the pain only grows the longer they're apart. It's like a craving that doesn't go away until it's satisfied.

Three days after Sephiroth ships out again, Rufus learns just how much of a craving it really is. Symptoms include: obsessive thoughts about Seph, tight chest, dry mouth, shortness of breath. Blurred vision. Vertigo.

The deterioration is as slow as it was inevitable. By the time Rufus understands what is happening, he's crashed to the floor and is laughing hysterically.

None of his previous withdrawals had been this bad, is his last thought before passing out.

Then again, this is no withdrawal, this is mako poisoning.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Double Vision."

After the bustle on the lower floors, this room is eerily quiet. So is the figure on the bed. Sephiroth nods at the dark-haired Turk in the corner, preparing an explanation for his visit, but the man – or boy, really, for he seems of an age with Rufus – unfolds from his chair and leaves without a word.

Sephiroth skin heats as an awkward realisation creeps up on him: his relationship with Rufus may not be as secret as he had – naively – supposed.

Rufus is as white as the sheet he's lying on. A look that's too akin to the wan and bloodless bodies he'd seen in the field hospitals or the battlegrounds. He'd hoped to be free of that sight in Midgar.

Idly, he picks up the patient chart hanging at the foot of the bed. Big mistake. His eyes zero in on the very words he'd been dreading to read: mako poisoning. His skin all but bursts into flame. 

Rufus stirs as though sensing his presence. Sephiroth is by his side in an instant. His fingers twitch, wanting too curl around Rufus's, but he refrains. It would only make himself feel better, not Rufus.

"Seph?"

"I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"Your condition," Sephiroth explains, stomach clenching. "It's my fault."

"Nonsense."

"The mako in my body—"

"—doesn't make it your fault. You SOLDIERs don't exactly come with a warning label, or an instruction manual."

The heat in Sephiroth's cheeks flares higher. "They did tell us, actually. That having unprotected sex could have side effects."

"Oh? The wonder child didn't listen?" Rufus teases.

"I assumed that meant girls."

Rufus laughs weakly. "I didn't think it was possible. You know, the mako rumours? Guess I was proven wrong."

"I should have taken better care."

Rufus hikes one shoulder in the slow-motion rendition of a shrug. "I suspected what was happening and I didn't care. So you don't need to start now. It's done."

His eyes are mako-bright and shimmering as he fixes Sephiroth with them.

"Though you can kiss me better, if you like."

"Rufus. What did we just talk about?"

"I'm so pumped full of painkillers I can hardly feel my face anymore. Do you really think I'm able to retain information?"

He beckons Sephiroth to lean closer. Sephiroth's eyes flicker toward the door. "What about—?"

"Tseng? He'll make sure no one gets past him without a warning."

"You anticipated this?"

"I don't like visitors."

"And yet here I am."

"Here you are. And you're still not kissing me. Or am I that revolting to you now?"

Rufus tries for levity but the bitterness that lurks behind it is like a knife to Sephiroth's gut. _He_ is the one with poison in his veins, yet Rufus has never once treated _him_ like the monster he is.

"Never," Sephiroth says.

Rufus breathes out a sigh when Sephiroth's lips brush his forehead. His skin is hot, although Sephiroth wouldn't have guessed just by looking at him.

"Though maybe we shouldn't see each other anymore."

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "At Cross Purposes" by Samuel Menashe.


End file.
